


Vickie Kent's Christmas

by Daphne_Fredriksen



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV), Victoria (TV)
Genre: AU, Christmas, Crossover, F/M, Vicbourne, WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 01:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daphne_Fredriksen/pseuds/Daphne_Fredriksen
Summary: This work is a Vicbourne/MitHC crossover.  A stand-alone version, "Her American Lieutenant" was created for the Vicbourne Advent Calender 2018 for the FB group - For the Love of Vicbourne.  If you like Vicbourne, please join us!





	1. On The BBC

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue in brackets and italics [...] represents Vickie speaking as her remembered self as Queen Victoria

Vickie Kent was in her garden, tying burlap around her roses, when she heard Nancy next door call to her. “The Beeb’s gonna show the ceremony from New York in 15 minutes! Are you going to watch?”

Vickie straightened, unsure how to answer. “Yes. I suppose I am. One must keep up with these things…”

“Right.” Nancy seemed disappointed. “You don’t sound enthusiastic. I’d think you would be. Aren’t you following him?”

“Of course…”

“I should think so; we all remember how you were during the war. He’s handsome as ever.”

“He’s married now.”

“Could’ve been you…”

Vickie smiled sadly. “No, Nancy, I don’t think it could. We would not have gotten on. We are too different.” She turned and went inside.

Was she going to watch? Of course she was going to watch. Though she never _quite_ got over the fact that the BBC was allowed - no, _forced_ – to keep its name; the name her generation associated with resistance to the Reich. All while being propaganda for their Nazi masters. Hitler & Goebbels's evil joke…

She watched the parade unfold, as Oberstgruppenführer John Smith became Reichsmarschall of the American Reich. She idly wondered if this would bring him to England more often. (It was England, now, – Angles' Land – for all parts of the British Isles. Everything had to emphasize a German connection.) After all, he would sometimes have to confer with the English Reich’s Premierminister.

She discovered, horrified, that she wanted to see him again. She felt a strong urge to somehow be in his arms again. But now? Like this? No, not like this… like it had been. As it could never be.


	2. Her American Lieutenant

Vickie closed her eyes, shutting out the TV image. The white spots and blotches behind her eyelids gradually resolved themselves into a pattern. It was snowing…

It was a freezing night, but even in her threadbare coat Vickie Kent felt warm. She was walking home to her cottage with an American lieutenant.

There was a small contingent of intelligence officers at the RAF base, and she and a few other girls had been putting on Christmas pantomimes and sang carols, which the officers laughed at and applauded and were also generally mystified by. The Yanks in turn did comedy skits and played jazz and sang Santa Claus songs, which the British girls equally enjoyed and were confused by.

This one had taken to her, and she to him. Lieutenant John Smith. He was the most dashing of the officers, with his dark curls and mesmerizing green eyes.

Arriving at the cottage, she took his coat. It felt heavy, and it made a crinkle-y sound. “Did you need anything from your overcoat?...”

He took the coat temporarily. “Feels funny…” he felt a bit, “What on earth… oh, so that’s what keeps making the noise in my pocket!” He took out a small packet and handed it to her. “Merry Christmas, Vickie… er, Happy Christmas, as you say here.”

“Why, John… you didn’t?! Oh, this is too much, I don’t have anything for you...”

“You do, though, have something with your cheerfulness and kindness to me. I can’t thank you enough for inviting me here these evenings. I might get back late to barracks, but it’s worth it to be in your company.”

She hugged him, and opened the package. In it was Camay soap, some Hershey’s bars (Vickie suspected he’d deprived himself of some of his c-rats), and, unbelievably, an actual pair of stockings! “I’ve never had nicer presents!” she said with glee.

She made them tea. “Let’s sit in front of the fireplace.” They’d sat together like this for several nights now, and it was almost falling into routine.

John put his arms around her. “Honestly, I’m not one to celebrate holidays that much, but these days with you… they feel like home.”

“I understand. And I have to tell you that you remind me of someone.”

John said nothing, but looked perplexed. She reached out her hand to touch his face. “I don’t mean like an actual person walking around town. Not a rival…”

“Like someone in a dream?” He reached for her hand and kissed it. A shock went through her immediately.

“No… much too real for that. Like, well…” she stumbled for words.

“Past lives, Hindu reincarnation? Do you in believe that stuff, Vickie? ”

“I might!” she teased. She knew it now, just as she’d always known she’d once been Queen Victoria. She knew who he was from the way his lips touched the back of her hand. “John, this is a funny question but… would you be Whig or Tory?... I mean, Labour or Conservative, if you were British?”

He was taken aback by the question. “Well… at home I’d say I’m a Democrat. I admired FDR before he was assassinated. Before the war I worked in the New York Mayor’s office on relief and employment programs. So that’s Labour, isn’t it? But the Republicans have some good points, and at any rate, I found it was helpful to be able to work with them, if I wanted to get things done.”

She smiled. “You have such a practical approach. You remind me of Queen Victoria’s Lord M. Do you know much about Lord Melbourne?” John shook his head. “He was her first prime minister, and he taught her… oh, so much of what she needed to know. And he was kind.”

She went to her bookshelf and took out a volume. It was Greville’s diaries. “This has some information about the friendship between them. He was really the first love of her life, you know.”

John still looked perplexed. “Thank you. But… why are you telling me all this?”

Vickie sighed, and snuggled against him. John was surprised – she had never put her head on his chest like that, but he clearly liked it. He kissed and stroked her hair, admiring her small, soft body. He cared for her, more than he could say, or dared to admit. He might wear a cravat like this “Melbourne”, if it meant he could have all the time he wanted with her here.

“You remind me of him, because… you are so kind. You’ve taught me a lot… oh, things about your country that I never knew. [ _Even with several diplomats and foreign ministers at my disposal_.] And it’s how I am always at ease with you. I never feel like a stranger anymore, even though this town is new to me after evacuating London. And above all, because…” She was afraid to go on, and idly fingered the patches on his uniform.

John lifted her chin, and saw her glowing face. Very sweetly he kissed her cheek, letting his lips remain there a bit. He looked down, almost shyly, because he wanted her so much, in a way he couldn’t describe, much less explain.

“A-and because… just as Lord M. was to Victoria, you… you’re the first love of my life, John!”

John took in a sharp breath, unsure what to do. She was not his first love. But he and Helen had broken it off, and John had never looked back. Let Captain Gordon have his lover; she didn’t deserve him.

But this beautiful Englishwoman… she had given him happiness back. From the moment he met her he’d felt there was a reason to get up in the morning, a reason that was more than just army duty.

“Are you sure, Vickie? I’m a soldier, with all that a soldier’s life entails… and it’s hard on a woman.”

“My father was a soldier too. My Mum was able to bear it, and I am too. And I’ll always be true to you.”

“I know you will.” With that he kissed her, softly at first. She responded warmly, and he kissed her harder; soon he was questing, feeling her body with his hands. But he was cautious; love could be snatched away so quickly.

Vickie melted into him. So this what Lord M.’s kisses were like! This was the passion she’d sensed, and that he’d always clamped down. She’d waited a hundred years to find out…

John looked out the window, catching his breath. The flurries were heavier, he noticed.

“I suppose you have to go,” said Vickie. “The barracks and all that.”

“Do you want me to leave? I can deal with the CO; it wouldn’t be the first time a soldier didn’t make it back to base in a storm. But what about you - are the neighbors vicious gossips? Will I be compromising you?”

“Oh, John, you’re not compromising me, and I don’t care what others think [ _I never did!_ ]. Do you? [ _You always seemed to…_ ]”

He took her tighter in his arms. He was beginning to be aroused now, pleasurably but not painfully so, and hopefully not enough that she would notice. If she accepted him, she would discover his condition soon enough, and they would both enjoy that discovery.

“No, for once in my life, I don’t care about appearances. I only want to give… Vickie, you said I’m your first love. Won’t you let me be your first lover, too?”

She kissed him in a way that left no doubt. “Of course I will! John, I’ve waited all this time for you. Make me yours!”


	3. Nothing Will Separate Us

The stay at the RAF base had been all too brief for the officers, and they had grumbled when they found out that they were to be sent to Europe, accompanying various units. Only John had been happy about the new European assignment.

“I feel, at least this way, I will be closer to you, fighting for your continent as well as US interests. I won’t be able to correspond as much – too much chance of mail falling into Nazi hands – but, when I do get leave, you know I’m coming home to you.”

“I’ve seen some soldiers in my life, but none so brave as you.”

“Plenty of men can be brave when their uniforms are clean and freshly starched. “ He laughed at himself [ _as he always had_ ]. “But Vickie, this is going to be a very difficult fight. It will take a long time, and have tremendous casualties.”

Her lip quivered. “But you’ll come back to me. You have to, John. I’ve waited so long for a love like ours. They can’t take that away.” [ _Please, don’t let them take Lord M. away again_.]

“When I come back, we’ll get married. And then nothing will separate us ever again.”


	4. The Difficult Leave

The year passed. John and the other officers were back, briefly; John had been made a captain for bravery in the field. There had been a break in the fighting, both sides nervously observing a Christmas truce. It was enough for Vickie that they were together.

It had been a difficult leave. The Americans were all but routed from Europe altogether, and the coalition of British, French Resistance, and the hastily assembled Portuguese army was barely holding the lines. John was worried about America, as U-boat bombings had proliferated. He had to report at the base every day, for long hours, but after all, at least he was able come back at all.

Vickie watched John drowsing, loving the looks of him. She ran her finger over his eyebrows, which were the perfect frame for his green eyes, ran her fingers over his neck and chest, tickling him. He wasn’t so drowsy as he seemed; he scooped her up and put her on her back and pressed against her. She surrendered gladly to his sudden actions. They belonged to each other, and soon they would proclaim that to the world…

When they were finished, John got up to get ready for duty at the base, while she made breakfast. Last Christmas he had gotten fond of bitter Seville marmalade so, even though it had taken her over a month to find it on the black market, she’d found some.

His eyes lit up when he saw it. “Oh, you remembered! Vickie, my love, you are the sweetest girl in the whole world. But… I hope you didn’t get into trouble finding it.”

“It was a challenge, but I have good friends, and a bit of resourcefulness.”

He looked at her a bit eagle-eyed. “The blockade has been awfully tight… hard to get fruit and sugar to Britain these days.”

“We manage. Get what we can, and when we can’t...”

“…Mustn’t grumble?”

“Yes, mustn’t grumble.” She smiled, watching him enjoy his treat. “Just as I am sure we shan’t grumble, but always carry through, when we are finally living as man and wife.” 

John put his teacup down, and put his hand over hers. He looked at her adoringly, but he said nothing.

“Though it seems like such a long wait. And this leave… you didn’t tell me how long this leave is…”

John picked up her hand and kissed it. “Poor Vickie. I can’t tell you how long this leave will be. I don’t know. I’m on constant standby; things could break out at any time.” She gripped his hand tightly – what did all this mean? 

He regretted causing her worry. “I will talk to the base chaplain today, and set up a day and time. I’m sure that we’ll be here another week, and surely we can get married in that timeframe. Dearest… I don’t have a ring for you, but I am yours. If you’ll take me in this difficult time, with little more than the clothes on our backs and an uncertain future…”

“Of course I will John. You know I will. Just as we promised…”


	5. Of Military Intelligence

The date for the ceremony (just a small one on base) was set for the end of the week.

But with each passing day, the news from the Outer Defences and from Europe itself got grimmer – and, Vickie noted, the news came more slowly and more sporadically, at least what she got from papers and the BBC.

Ever since John had come back to her, Nan and Em and others would come over for a cuppa in the morning, talking about the war, and, she surmised, trying to get her to tell anything she’d learned from her captain. But John came home closed-mouthed, and often looking worried. But Vickie understood the delicacy of military intelligence, and never pressed him.

Tonight, though, he looked especially grim. He took her hands and kissed them both. She stroked his face and he leaned into her hand, longing for comfort. John gently pulled her onto his lap.

“Vickie Darling, I know I’ve been coming home and not saying much.”

“I understand.”

“I have to talk to you - tell you what is going on.”

“You don’t need to. I understand military secrets.”

“I know you do, and every day I am awed by your patience and your wisdom. You have an understanding beyond that of any woman I have ever met.

“The fact is, Vickie, we are on the edge of losing the world as we’ve known it. The Germans are prepared, technologically, logistically, and politically, to capture all of Europe. They’ve been setting up shadow governments in most of the Eastern countries, and about half of those in the West. Those countries in which they haven’t infiltrated the government they can easily crush with a couple of _panzer_ units and airstrikes. “

Vickie swallowed hard. “The Germans have never been loath for discipline. One thinks back to the Prussians, their militarism and cruelty. [ _And how they took over the duchies, contrary to the enlightened German-speaking union we’d wanted to see_ ]. But we British have our discipline, too…”

“The Germans also are prepared to hold out – to besiege, if they have to. They’ve consolidated North Africa and the Mideast; they have tremendous resources and the ability to blockade Europe until she falls on her knees to Hitler.”

“But… what about our Canal? The Suez Canal?!”

John sighed heavily. “I am breaking protocol by telling you this. But you are my life, and I can’t withhold this information. This afternoon, we got word that Rommel repulsed the Allies, and King Farouk surrendered the country to him – including the Canal.”

The news was too shocking; she could not help breaking into sobs. [ _All that we did; all Disraeli’s wiliness to get canal shares and gain control of it!_ ] John held her, rocking her and kissing her. “All our efforts. Our interest in that region. Gone! Oh, what will this mean to the Empire!” And she broke into fresh cries.

At last she wiped away her tears and quieted herself. “So... it’s just us: the British, the Americans, and the Canadians – and maybe Australia and New Zealand, if they aren’t destroyed by the Japanese. We are all that is standing between Hitler and his dreams of world domination?”

“Yes, Dear, I’m afraid so.”

“How long will it take to beat them back?”

A very long silence followed. “I don't know. You’re assuming we can, and that’s a very big assumption.”

“Why, John, we are the English-Speaking Peoples! We are the people of parliament, the people’s rights, the common law!”

“Yes, we are, but the German trust in blood and iron turned out to be a good bet for them. They prove mighty persuasive when push comes to shove.”

Vickie’s eyes widened. She could not believe what she was hearing! She remembered the days when Melbourne and Wellington and Palmerston, all of them, had been absolute lions for British interests and British values!

“I don’t like saying these things, any more than you like to hear them,” John continued, “but you have to know that it will be very hard – some would say impossible. You see the effects of years of rationing here, and how it’s depleted resources. With losing the Suez, you’ve lost your Empire, and any further supply and help. New Zealand is expected to capitulate to the Japs within the week, and I doubt Australia will be able to hold out much more than a month.”

“But we have our Allies in the New World.”

John sighed again, almost a groan. “Canada’s putting everything she’s got into the Defense of the UK, but she’s got a problem – either she sends men, in which case she can’t send resources, or she sends resources, and that takes away from vitally needed personnel serving over here.

“As for my country… Vickie, we are stretched to the bone, on two fronts. You know this. We never recovered from the Depression, so we haven’t got much in the way of funds to keep this up. And so much of Latin America is anti-US; some countries are positively sympathetic to the Nazis.

“Besides, we lack decision-makers. Should the President try to exert his privilege, Congress raises constitutional questions. Should Congress try and fund something, their constituents who only want pork-barrel projects for their states give the congressmen hell. It’s crazy, Vickie.”

“Then we will fight to the death! Do we have any other choice?”

Again, silence filled the room. Tears started again in Vickie’s eyes. She put a trembling hand on his arm. He placed his hand on top of hers. “No…” he agreed. He kissed her hand – for a moment she felt all of her dear Lord M’s gallantry from the past. “My brave Vickie. You’re so young and so delicate-looking. But you have the heart of a tiger.”

She leaned against him, suddenly feeling so old and tired. He was tired, too, and he sank into her embrace.

“Come to bed, love,” she said. “It’s been a trying time. You need rest – and love.”

“Yes, you’re right,” he admitted.

She took his hand, leading him to the bedroom. They had each other, and if they were of one mind, they could face anything. The sun would rise, and things would be better in the morning.


	6. The Most Difficult Leave

It was dawn when Vickie rolled over, and found his half of the bed cold and empty. She put on her robe, and went to the parlor. John was fully dressed in his uniform, sitting and staring into the cold fireplace.

“You’re up awfully early, love. Do you want breakfast or tea or something?”

“Nothing for me, thanks. Vickie, come sit by me. You asked me a question last night.”

A weird sensation gripped her stomach. She sat down with a bump.

“You asked about what we will do regarding the coming menace. About how we deal with the tightening German noose.

“In my duties as a soldier, I must obey commands, and regardless of what you and I should wish together, if my commander requires me to go to Timbuktu, then I must do it.

“But in this case, I have a choice before me. I can stay with the British-led command and fight for 'Europe'. Or, I can take advantage of a German amnesty that’s being offered for Yuletide. In exchange for a naval truce, Allied troops who aren’t British can have their orders rescinded, and return to their own country. There will be a naval truce to allow transport home – and the naval truce, incidentally, would be a good step towards peace.”

“ ’Peace?!’ But, if you do that, you will be betraying Britain! You will be leaving us to our fate!”

John gripped her by the shoulders, “No, not _us_ , we, _we_ will go back together, you and I! We get married Saturday; we will go as husband and wife!”

“I can’t go with you and be your wife, if it means both of us shamelessly leaving this country to certain destruction! This is my nation! This is my home!”

“Vickie, please! Your home is with me – don’t you see that? There is nothing for you here. Britain _will_ capitulate, in the end.”

“So… you’ll take the German deal and abandon the country you said you’d adopt for my sake.”

“I said I’d come home to you – which I have. But I made no promise to tie myself to England forever. You’re upset about what I’m saying, but I have to think about reality… and I don’t see what it has to do with the love between us.”

“It has everything to do with it. The man I loved - that I thought I loved – was liberal, and had patriotism, and wanted to see good rulers with enlightened ideals winning the day!”

John sighed. “Yes, we all _want_ that, but what we get is something else, and the first duty is - to survive. “ She jerked her head to the side, tears streaming from her eyes. “Maybe that day will come again. But ‘til then I want to be by your side, keeping you safe… “

“Safe,” she said, and it sounded like a death-knell. “No. I think not. I do not care for such ‘safety.’ “

“I am not going to remain under British command. I have a choice, and I choose to not go on fool’s errands.

“Good. You’ve chosen. Follow your choice. I choose to stay in my country.”

He was stunned. Not only was the love of his life being emotional and unreasonable, despite all he had told her, but now she was cutting him off.

“Vickie, darling… do you know what you’re doing? Are you really going to send me away?”

Tears were overtaking her, and she put her face in her hands. John felt himself dying inside, and he reached out to hold her. But she slipped away from him and motioned with her hand, shooing him away.

Smith picked up his hat, wondering what to do. He had the awfullest feeling of déjà vu, that he’d been here before, arguing with her about the way life ought to be and the way life was. He would always take what _was_.

But it was going to cost him a huge piece of his heart if he left, and he thought maybe he should stay and fight for her. This was somehow an old feeling too.

He dismissed it; there was no time to put feelings over what was right. He put on his hat and went to the door. Still, one last try to make her see reason.

“Vickie,” he said, “Please say you’ll come with me. It’s the only way for us to be together. If I leave now… I’m never coming back.” His voice was soft, catching a bit in his throat.

Her heart was breaking, he knew it by the shuddering of her body and her continual tears. But she would not move or speak. Once her mind was made up, no one was made of sterner stuff.

His heart was breaking too, but there was no help for it. He went out the door, into the snow and the sleet, the sound of the latch closing the chapter forever.


	7. Switching Off The Telly

Vickie switched off the telly. Yes, the Reichsmarschall was handsome, resplendent in ropes and braid and medals, and, much as she hated to say it, the evil black of his SS uniform set off his stern beauty - almost too perfectly.

But she had meant it when she told Nancy she could not have married him. She longed to see him, to try and recall him to himself. Marriage be damned, she would give him her body again, if it would make him change.

Vickie took in a sharp breath. She had to watch herself – was that really as disinterested a charity offering as she made it, or the longing for a youth and passion that had been? A passion and youthful hope that Nazism had killed…

She went into the kitchen. The holiday - it was called Yule now, per _Parteiminister_ Bormann’s orders - was still a month or two off. But it was time to make the Christmas pud, if she was going to be follow the old traditions. Which, of course, she would.

She gathered the rum and raisins and currants and things.. And as she thought about the parade for her former lover [ _her former friend and minister_ ] she decided. She would call Owen tomorrow. She would join the British resistance.


End file.
